Chapter Text
₲rantaire
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Grantaire’s eyes flew open and he jumped up. He threw a worried glance around the room trying to locate the loud, irritating noise that woke him from his slumber. Jehan was laying on his mattress across the room snoring lightly. Jehan slept like the dead. An angry mob could be at their door and Jehan wouldn’t rouse from his slumber in the slightest. When he was sure his best friend wasn't getting mauled by a bear or anything equally absurd and frightening he grabbed his phone.
It was a shitty little thing. A three year old flip phone but it had served him faithfully over the years. The phone suffered through all of Grantaire’s abuse without breaking. He checked the time.
6:30AM
“What?” Grantaire pondered aloud. Who interrupted a person’s sleep at 6:30 in the morning? Who was awake themselves at 6:30 in the morning?
Knock! Knock!
Grantaire really hated whoever was knocking.
“Go away,” Grantaire rasped. His throat was dry from sleep. He grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his head to block out the pounding at the door.
“Come on you bitch, open up!,” Growled a voice from the other side of the door.
“Oh, for the love of everything unholy,” grumbled Grantaire before tossing off his blanket and rising from his mattress. He shuffled sleepily to the door.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“I am coming!” Grantaire screamed.
He looked through the peephole to see who in their right mind would be at the door. He was not expecting this.
What. The. Hell.
He undid the lock but left the chain on.
“What do you want,” he demanded.
“For you to let me the fuck in you little twat,” the visitor snapped.
“Fat chance,” Grantaire scoffed. He tried to slam the door shut but a booted foot blocked it’s path.
“Get fucking Jehan and let me the fuck in before I beat the shit out of both of you. Worthless slut,” the visitor threatened before reaching in the door and attempting to undo the chain. Grantaire and the intruder wrestled with the door. The invader trying to push the door in and break the chain while Grantaire tried to shove the visitor out and close the door. Grantaire being the smaller and weaker of the two men in the struggle lost and the chain broke off the wall with a loud clanging noise. Grantaire was immediately shoved back. The intruder then barreled into his stomach launching them both to the ground in a struggling heap. He began punching Grantaire any place he could reach while Grantaire tried uselessly to wriggle out from underneath the intruder.
“Thought you could keep me out!?”
Punch
“Wanted to keep him all to yourself?!”
Punch
“He’s my little bitch!”
Punch
"My little slut!"
Punch
“Mine!”
Punch
Grantaire tried his best to fight back but his opponent was a far more experienced fighter and a much larger man. He felt pain and tasted blood in his mouth. He was pretty sure he was going to get beaten to death in his own apartment. He heard footsteps rapidly approaching and knew Jehan had woken up.
No you idiot. Run away.
“Montparnasse! You’re going to kill him!” Jehan screeched right before Grantaire passed out.
ßossuet
“She was perfect. I’m telling you,” Marius swore, “She was an angel in disguise.”
Combeferre snorted. Bossuet just nodded and smiled good heartedly. Marius was telling them of his meeting with a proclaimed angel the night before.
“Marius,” Combeferre spoke calmly, “She is a stripper.”
“No,” Marius practically jumped out of his seat, “She only tried it to help her mom. I promised her I’d ask you and Enjolras about it. Marius then went into full detail about the poor girls story. It really was terrible tale.
‘Her luck sounds as bad as mine’ Bossuet thought grimly before deeming his coffee cooled enough to drink.
“Ughhnnghh!” he sputtered as the hot liquid burnt his tongue.
Combeferre paused mid speech about welfare and special health care programs for the less fortunate to give Bossuet an exasperated look.
“I told you to let that cool,” He articulated before sipping from his own coffee coyly.
Bossuet shrugged and offered a lopsided smile in return. Combeferre continued to educate Marius on the possible paths for Colette, or whatever her name was, to take.
Bossuet tuned them out and thought of what he and Joly could get to eat when Joly’s shift at the hospital was over.
Joly was interning as a nursing assistant in the local hospital.
Joly.
Bossuet blushed thinking about last night. Joly had felt guilty about making Bossuet miss the strip club but Bossuet hadn’t minded in the slightest. He was just happy about spending time with his boyfriend.
“Wouldn’t you Bossuet?” Combeferre asked. Marius was looking at Bossuet with large puppy-like eyes full of hope.
“Erm, What?” Bossuet asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to meet Cosette? She sounds like a nice person. It would be a shame not to try and help her,” Combeferre elaborated.
“Yeah,” Bossuet reassured, “She sounds great.”
“Great,” Marius grinned, “I’ll invite her to the next meeting.”
ʝoly
“Oy! You there,” a female voice called.
Joly jumped in surprise. No one was supposed to be in this hallway. It was staff only.
Joly stopped and turned around. He located the girl speaking. She had long brown hair thrown haphazardly into a bun and intense hazel eyes. She had her hands on her hips and was datding in front of two other girls. She was staring right at him.
He looked behind him. No one was there.
Joly stared at her bewildered and pointed to himself questionably?
“Yeah! You,” she demanded walking up to him. The two girls behind her followed, never more than a step behind her.
“Will one of you pretentious blowhards tell me what the fuck is wrong with our friend?!” the brunette sneered.
“Ep,” the blonde girl scolded softly. The girl, Ep, just scoffed in response.
“Uhm,” Joly blurted, “I would need the name of your friend, Mam.” The girl scoffed once more before supplying Joly with the information necessary.
She was asking about her friend Grantaire, he was the assault patient in room 231. Joly knew that there was nothing fatally wrong with him. He was badly beaten and probably had a broken a rib or two. Joly went to check to be sure. The girl had given her name, Éponine Thénardier, and her soft spoken blonde friend friend led her and the other curly haired girl back into the waiting room.
Joly walked into room 231. The man in the bed was sleeping off his meds. Joly made a mental list of visual injuries. He had a black eye and a split lip. Several lacerations and bruises littered his face and chest. Joly moved forward to the foot of the bed and grabbed Grantaire’s chart. He had a broken rib just as suspected. Joly was just about to put the chart back down when something caught his eye. Under Grantaire’s age and above his allergies was the list of his most recent hospital visits in a year. Most people had one, maybe two visits in that space, the man lying in the hospital bed before Jehan had ten.
Stomach pumping - Alcohol
Stomach pumping - Alcohol
Possible Assault - Broken arm
Overdose - Methadone
Stomach pumping - Alcohol
Possible Assault - Concussion
Possible Assault - Signs of rape; head trauma
Stomach pumping - Alcohol
Possible Assault - Broken wrist; broken nose; concussion
Stomach pumping - Alcohol
Joly’s mouth hung open. Underneath all of that was a note written in handwriting.
Possibly suicidal; possible abusive relationship
There were three names that popped up repeatedly admitting Grantaire: Jean Prouvaire was the most popular, Alyssa Tyrell was a close second, the third name was the girl who had demanded answers, Éponine Thénardier.
Joly put down the chart and left as silently as he entered. He had to inform Éponine on the status of her friend and try to convince her to get him professional help. This man was calling out for help and Joly was going to try his damned hardest to help.